Old School Romance
by badfanfictionaire
Summary: Don't ask me why, but I ship them. Bucky & Maria test out the potential for a romantic relationship. Bucky needs some TLC, Maria can help with that. Set after Winter Soldier. PLEASE NOTE: Chapter three has sex in it, so if you don't want to read "explicit" content stop at chapter 2!
1. Chapter 1

If you've met Steve Rogers then you've heard of his best friend, Bucky Barnes. Steve used to bring him up every now and then, but of course it was a sore subject. Before we'd known about the Winter Soldier, none of us had known Bucky was still alive.

It took Steve forever to get over what they'd done to Bucky, especially after they'd fought and Bucky hadn't remembered him at all. That'd been the worst part. But Steve realized how much his friend needed him, and his worries shifted from what Hydra _had_ done to what needed to _be_ done. Bucky needed a lot of TLC. He was depressed, his mind was in shambles. After Steve dragged him back into civilization, after four days of convincing him to leave the musty hotel he'd holed up in, Bucky moved in with Steve in a safe-house.

That's how I actually met Bucky. Before he'd just been a story character, a dark haired loyal friend to Steve, that had been lost too soon...

"I'm Maria," I said, trying not to let on that I was swooning.

I saw a glimmer of something in his eyes. "James," he responded, shaking my hand.

"What, you're not going to keep the nickname in 2014?" Steve pestered, punching Bucky in the arm.

"Only you get to call me Bucky," he laughed, "Otherwise I start to feel like I should be a beaver."

"James is fine," I say, unsure of how to respond, "It's nice to finally meet you."

"Hey Steve, why didn't you tell me SHIELD was full of pretty women? I would have stopped working for Hydra years ago," Bucky winked at me and went to pour himself a coffee. It was just after lunch, but it appeared he had just woken up. There was a hint of stubble covering his chin, bags under his eyes, and tufts of his hair stuck every-which-way. But something struck me about him, he was charming despite all odds.

"That's all it would have taken, huh? One phone call to Russia and you'd have come running?" Steve looked over at me, "Sorry for his lack of tact, Ms. Hill. His brain was on ice for a bit too long, he's lost his touch."

I shook my head, "It's okay, really."

"So, what did they need me to fill out for paperwork?" Steve asked, coming over next to me.

"Just a few more forms about Nick Fury and his disappearance. They want to make sure we've got all our bases covered when it comes to information leakage. They figure the more papers you sign, the less likely you are to talk to the press." I handed him the manila envelope and nodded, "Okay, well I'll be off then. Enjoy the rest of your day, Steve, James."

"Going so soon?" Bucky asked, "Aw come on, at least stay for a cup of coffee."

I felt myself yearning to take that as a flirtatious invite, but I suppressed it. "Maybe another time, but thank you."

* * *

"Bucky wants to know if you're up for a coffee date tomorrow," Steve asks me the next time he calls.

"Excuse me?" I find it hard not to be taken aback. Somehow I've stopped accepting that a guy could be interested in dating me since Coulson passed away. Whatever we had, however brief it was, meant something to me. With him gone I focused on work and stopped intercepting anyone's interest in me, until now for some reason.

"He wants to get coffee, with you. Is that okay?"

"Um yeah, that's… fine. Just unexpected."

"Okay, I'll let him know. He doesn't have a modern license yet so you'll have to pick him up, but he'll be excited."

Steve hangs up and I'm left facing the fact that I was just inadvertently asked out by a guy from the forties.

* * *

"You look nice," he says shyly. He's holding his mug of coffee with two hands like he's worried he'll drop it. His metallic arm is mostly covered by a long sleeve grey shirt, but I can tell how uneasily he uses his metal fingers. That's why he's using two hands, I realize, he's unfamiliar with his own body parts.

"Thank you," I reply, fiddling with the hem of my skirt. I don't know why I'm wearing it, there was no reason to have worn a blouse and skirt to work. I usually get away with slacks and a blazer… "You too," I sputter before I can stop myself. He does look nice. The dark circles have started to fade from under his eyes.

He looks slightly uneasy but he fights it away with a small smile. He sets the coffee down and instantly, he's clasping his hands together, trying to keep the metal one concealed in his fleshy one. "Thanks," he says, "I've been… Trying to get use to this, all of this…" he gestures around. "Everything is so different."

I think about the one photo I've seen of him, and how much has changed since that photo was taken, and how little of it he actually got to experience. "It's not too bad, right?"

He shrugs, "Somethings are better than others. And then there are somethings I just … Don't understand."

"Like what?"

He reaches into his pocket and holds out a small cellphone that's probably from the 90s, "Like these, what do you do with them?"

I stifle a laugh, "They're just phones, that you can take with you."

"I always see people typing into them," he sighs, "What are they writing?"

"Text messages," I explain, "They're just letters, but not on paper."

"Ah," Bucky says, "Well that's… Boring."

I take out my phone and point to the small camera on the back, "The best thing about these is that you can take memories with you," I begin. Bucky leans over, interested all of a sudden.

I pull up my photo album. "See? You can keep pictures on here."

"How did you get this one?" he asks, pointing to a photo of me from years ago, standing with some of the new SHIELD recruits.

"Oh, someone sent it to me, so I could have it on my phone."

"You look pretty," he mumbles, "I… really like that, um, dress."

"Oh," I try not to sound too shocked, "Thanks, James."

"I'm sorry…" he says very quietly, pulling away.

"No, no. Its fine."

"I'm being far too forward, Ms. Hill, I'm sorry…"

"It's okay," I say again, "And it's Maria, you don't have to call me Ms. Hill."

That something glimmers in his eyes again and I realize a bit late that he's into me.

"Maria," he says slowly, "Forgive me if I'm a bit behind the times, but… Well, my romantic skills are apparently a bit outdated…"

I had to think for a moment, but then I realize that this coffee date was supposed to be a date-date. Bucky was actually trying to court me...

My stomach twirls and I feel my lips twitch into a smile. How lucky can a girl be? To walk straight into an old school romance?

"Don't worry about it," I say with a grin, "You're doing just fine."


	2. Chapter 2

On our third date we went to a local restaurant that had "the world's best hamburgers". Bucky was still embarrassed to have me pick him up, but I didn't mind. I was falling for him. It hadn't taken that long. By the second time we'd met I was dumbstruck by how kind he was. He didn't want to go to fast, he'd made that clear. He wanted to treat me like a lady.

On the car ride over I caught him flinching as he quickly looked away from his reflection in the side-mirror. "You okay?" I asked, wondering if I was going to have to pull over.

Bucky glanced over at me, blushing. "You saw that?"

"Yeah… Sorry, I wasn't trying to stare." But he was so handsome, I couldn't help it sometimes.

"I just… I still see his face, every time."

Steve had told me what it was like seeing Bucky as the Winter Soldier. How his eyes were blank and yet so full of hatred. His expression angry and creased with frustration. He wore all black and walked with purpose, a man on a mission. Bucky, in comparison, was a bucket of rainbows. "That has to be hard," I say patting his knee in attempt to comfort him.

"I couldn't shake the feeling that something was off," Bucky said, "The face was all wrong, the clothes, the hair… It was like walking around in someone else's skin for all that time. But no matter what I did, I couldn't remember who I was supposed to be. And then after I got back…. I've seen pictures from all those years ago, and I still have a hard time remembering who I was."

"It'll get easier, I'm sure," I offer a smile, "Steve went through something similar, I'm sure he'd talk to you about how you're feeling."

"I know," Bucky says quietly, "I just don't know if I'm ready to talk yet."

He looks over toward the mirror again and I can see his expression shift from thoughtful to upset. I put my hand on his shoulder, "Whoever you're seeing, that's not you anymore. Who you are?" I put my hand over his heart, "It's in here, it's not something visual. It's what you do, from here on out."

I see a sliver of a smile spread on his face. "Thank you," he says after a moment.

"Anytime," I reply.

* * *

On our fifth date I convinced him to come back to my apartment. I wasn't expecting anything to happen, I knew Bucky wasn't ready for anything intimate yet. I just wanted to let him into my life so he'd know I was serious.

"You must get lonely living in this big place all by yourself," he comments, holding up a photo on my bookshelf for closer inspection. I notice he holds in it is 'normal' hand rather than his metal hand, which hangs limp at his side unless he feels it necessary to use it. He avoids it like the plague, as though he's not even sure it works right.

"I'm almost never here," I reply, "Work keeps me busy, so really I just sleep here. But, it is really quiet..."

"Who's this?" he asks, turning a photo of Coulson and I so I can see it.

"A coworker," I say trying to keep my voice from trembling, "He um… He passed away, not that long ago."

"He must have been special to you, if you keep his photo," Bucky murmurs, obviously feeling bad for having brought up the subject.

"We were close," I tell him, "But I know he wouldn't want me to be upset, so I've done my best to move on. He would have wanted that."

"Oh," Bucky says quietly, his gray eyes finding mine, apologetic.

"It's okay," I say quickly.

He comes over and puts his arms around me. His metal arm barely puts and pressure on me, like he's scared to hold on too tightly. "You're not going to hurt me," I whisper, resting my cheek against his chest, hugging him back.

"You don't know that," he says quietly, pulling away from me, his head hanging in shame. "I… I can't give you what he gave you. I'm… I don't trust myself, with you."

"I'm a big girl," I say, "And I trust you, so don't worry…"

He's playing with the joints on his metal hand, his body rigid. "I have dreams where I'm… I'm hurting people, innocent people. And they're begging me to stop but I can't…. When I was… I wasn't in control for so long, I'm scared I'll lose control again…"

I take his metal hand in mine and trace along it with my fingers. I know he can't feel my touch but I do it anyway. Mesmerized by the technology that went into the device. "I'm not scared of you," I tell him, "You're a good guy, you mean well. If anything happens, if you start to lose control, I won't blame you. I'll be here, so just tell me and I'll help you. I'll do whatever I can."

He takes his hand from mine and cups my chin in his palm, ever so gently. I can feel the metal, surprisingly warm, on my skin. He stares at me, thoughtfully for a moment, and then leans in for a kiss. His lips are soft and he moves them slowly over mine. I feel his hand shift from my chin to the back of my neck, fingers caressing softly, pulling me just a bit closer. My hands wrap around his waist and the base of his neck. I find myself never wanting this moment to end, but I know Bucky's still hesitant about moving too fast. His taste lingers on my mouth as we pull away, and I'm grateful for him being brave enough to kiss me. I have no idea what our next date will lead to, but more than ever I'm excited for the future. His and mine.


	3. Chapter 3

About a month into our relationship I was walking up to my apartment and almost pepper sprayed Bucky. I hadn't expected to see him, leaning up against the wall beside my door. But he was there just the same. I took a moment to catch my breath from the shock before asking, "How did you get here?"

"Nice to see you too," Bucky grinned, "I walked."

As I got a bit closer I noticed small drips of sweat on his face, but the rest of him was dry. Sometimes I forgot how strong he was, walking the twenty blocks from the safehouse to my apartment complex was probably a peaceful stroll to him. "You could have taken a cab," I laughed, "They had those back in the day, right? I'm sure you know how to hail one."

He smirked, "I needed the exercise, I get fidgety just sitting around." His arm extended and he held out a bouquet of flowers in my direction. "I hope you don't mind me dropping by, I just missed you."

"Oh James…" I said examining the lush flowers more closely, "You're too good to me, you know that?"

"Well I was going to get you hologram flowers, you know to be more 'hip' for this day and age, but being from the Paleolithic era I just couldn't bring myself to turn down the real thing."

I planted a kiss on his smug grin and let us both into the apartment.

"I'm going to change," I told him as I moved toward my bedroom, "You're welcome to anything in the kitchen, make yourself comfortable, I'll be out in a sec."

I hurriedly kicked off my shoes and stepped out of my slacks, not wanting to make Bucky sit by himself for too long. I opted for fitted black sweat pants and a plain gray t shirt to replace my work clothes, silently cursing myself for not owning anything more attractive for lounge wear. But my insecurities flew away as soon as I walked into the living room and Bucky's eyes found mine. He always looked at me like I was the prettiest girl he'd ever seen and it gave me butterflies in the best way possible.

I ended up convincing him to stay for dinner, which ended up being takeout Chinese food because Bucky hadn't ever ordered delivery before and was delighted with the idea. And dinner ended up including a movie because Bucky hadn't ever seen _Indiana Jones_ and I had all of them on DVD. And then, because we were both comfortable and didn't want to leave the couch, we opted to watch the second movie in the series. "This is really unrealistic," Bucky said into the top of my head, "These guys are the worst shots I've ever seen, they haven't hit him once and he's standing ten feet away from them. Not to mention he shouldn't have even survived the first movie."

"They're not supposed to be accurate," I say, "The whole point is that he lives, he's the hero of the movie."

"Whatever floats your boat," Bucky laughed, kissing my hair gently.

By the time the credits started to roll by we'd both fallen asleep. I woke up to Bucky whimpering in his sleep, sometime around 1 AM. His body was rigid, breathing labored, eyes pressed tightly shut. Between whimpers he was whispering something in Russian; and while I couldn't make heads or tails of what he was saying I knew he sounded terrified. I was afraid to wake him up because I didn't know if that would scare him more than whatever was going on in his head, so instead I did my best to try to sooth him back to a more restful state.

"It's okay," I said quietly, massaging his shoulder and rubbing his cheek with my thumb. His body jerked at my touch but he stopped whimpering. "It's okay James, you're fine," I repeated, smoothing his hair and kissing his forehead. His eyelids fluttered and I thought for a moment I'd woken him, but he remained asleep. After a few more moments I felt his body relax. I rested my head on his chest, thankful he was beginning to breathe more slowly and evenly. "You're okay," I told him, feeling my own eyelids growing heavy, "I've got you, you're going to be just fine."

In the morning I woke up tucked under Bucky's metal arm. Oddly it wasn't heavy, the pressure of it on my back reminded me of those lead vests they often use for people with anxiety disorders. His body was warm and firm against me, and if I tilted my head up just a bit I could see his sleepy face with a peaceful look plastered on it. I was thankful he'd made it the rest of the night without a nightmare, I felt badly that he'd been so upsetted in his sleep and wondered how often it happened. As safe as I felt curled up next to him, I knew his mind wasn't a safe place for him, and that hurt. I wanted him to feel just as happy as I was.

* * *

Just when it seemed like our relationship was at a standstill, Bucky surprised me. It had been two months of flirting, snuggling, kissing, romantic dinners, movies in our pajamas… But we hadn't ever gone further, and I hadn't pushed him for fear I'd lose the bond we'd made...

"I can't believe you liked that!" I tease, musing his hair as I leaned against him on the couch.

"What?" Bucky said, "I can't help it, it was cool." He grinned and kissed me briefly before saying, "But you're much more my type than Princess Leia any day."

"Oh really?" I retort, arching an eyebrow at him.

"Of course," he says. His eyes are darting left to right, analyzing my entirety like they always do. His pupils are a bit dilated and I feel my breath catch in my throat. "Why wouldn't I think that? I mean, for one, you're real," Bucky says, his voice is lower than usual. "And two, you're beautiful, inside and out. You make me feel… complete, Maria." By now his tone is almost guttural and I can tell he's feeling a bit more interested in me than usual.

I feel my cheeks flush and he reaches over and brushes my hair from my face.

"I don't think I'd be stable without you," he almost whispers.

"James…" I breathe, catching his gaze just as his lips crash onto mine. I had been worried we weren't making progress, but now we were moving forward at lightning speed. His hands grasp at my shirt, pulling me so close I can feel his heart beating against my chest. There's a hint of stubble on his cheeks and it grazes my skin as his mouth works its magic over mine.

"Is this okay?" he gasps between kisses.

"Perfect," I sigh, feeling his fingers graze my spine, realizing he's adventured under my shirt.

I'm scared to go too quickly, but I can't help it, and before I can stop myself I'm working my shirt up over my head. His eyes are glowing and he takes a moment to appreciate my figure before slowly tracing the lace on my bra with his fingers. In seconds he has his own shirt off and we're searching each other's bodies for all those little things that make them special. He's got various scars lacing his body from all of his numerous war experiences, but the most striking this is the seam between his flesh and the metal brace of his arm. It almost looks like the two materials have joined together as one, but as my fingers skim over it I can feel where there's a space between them. I'm afraid it's painful so I don't press on it, but Bucky senses my hesitation and whispers, "It doesn't hurt, it's okay," in my ear.

His mouth is trailing down my neck and I've got one hand gripping the back of his neck, fingers grasping at his thick hair, and the other grazing his toned muscled stomach. Bucky's hands are roving around me like he's never felt human flesh before and I'm loving the contrast between the cool metal and the warm skin as they graze every inch of me. "Do you want to…" his voice rumbles in my ear and I know what he's asking. I shimmy my pants off before he can have second thoughts, and then I help him with the fly of his jeans.

"Are you sure?" he asks, panting.

"Yes," I shoot back with as much conviction as I can force into my voice.

He doesn't waste any time after that.

Some how in the next five minutes my underpants go flying across the living room and my bra drops over the back of the couch. At one point we wound up on the floor, though I don't remember having shifted to that position. It occurred to me that Bucky probably hadn't had this much 'physical contact' since before he went to war, and that was being proven by how hungrily he was taking in all of my body. "Can I…" he rumbles into my ear, singling he's ready. I nod, knowing full well that I'm getting to that point as well. He's ever so careful as he makes his entrance, pausing momentarily to make sure I'm still on-board. Once he's inside it doesn't take that long and I'm holding in the urge to yell his name as loud as I can. We separate, his arms entangling my body as he lays next to me, completely exhausted.

"James… That was…" I pant heavily, _"Excellent_."

"Not bad for a guy in his nineties, huh?" he has that stupid smirk on his face again when I roll over to look at him.

"Not bad at all, James, not -"

He cuts me off with a curt kiss. "Bucky," he grins, "You can call me Bucky."


	4. Chapter 4

Things were going so well, and then suddenly they weren't. It still amazes me how fast the ups and downs in our relationship happen. One minute we're on cloud nine, and the next it's like we've sunk with the Titanic. It was about five months in before anything really bad happened. Before that it was the usual night terrors and the occasional screaming match because Bucky was having a hard time coping with something and I wasn't feeling patient. I was fully convinced we were on the right path though, he was staying over more and more and we talked about making his residence permanent. He expressed his concerns that we weren't married, I reminded him it was the 21st century and it was okay for us to not be married and live together. He finally got a learner's permit so he could start driving himself over. I guess all of those things blinded me to the fact that Bucky hadn't really ever talked about the trauma he'd been through. If I'd remembered that, I wouldn't have been so caught off guard when it all came out at once…

* * *

It looked like a bomb went off. There was broken pieces of glass everywhere, the sofa was in two pieces, the pot rack in the kitchen was hanging by one of four chains and the pots were scattered across the living room. The retractable nozzle for the kitchen sink was dangling from a lamp in the hallway…

He was cowering the corner of the kitchen, behind the island, in the crook of the cabinets and oven. There was a smear of blood on his arm and he was hiding his face in utter shame and terror. When he finally looked at me there were tears streaking his face, and his eyes were a sullen deep color I hadn't ever seen them. He didn't say a word when I sat down next to him and placed a hand on his knee. He just stared at me, like he was lost and I was the first person he'd seen after being stranded for years.

_"What happened, Buck?"_

His eyes watered and he shirked away from my touch, curling into the fetal position.

_"Please. just tell me what happened."_

His body throbbed as he cried into his knees. There was more blood on his shirt, and a shard of a broken dinner plate was stuck in his lower leg.

_"I'm not going to yell at you, I just want to know what happened. Please, just talk to me."_

I should have seen it coming, I should have known he was going to have a moment of release. I'd promised in the very beginning that if he ever lost control I wouldn't judge him, and I wasn't going to. I felt for him, I really did. I only wished I'd expressed my concern sooner, so he wouldn't have had to resort to this.

_"Whatever it is, I understand."_

* * *

We sat for what felt like hours in total silence. The sun had set and the kitchen was growing darker by the second. I thought about getting up to put on a light, but I didn't know if any of them would still turn on.

"I'm so sorry," came the softest voice I've ever heard, at around 7:00 PM.

"It's okay," I replied, "Just talk to me, what happened?"

He fell silent again.

"Bucky, you can't keep this all inside of you, please just talk to me."

"I just… I just wanted… I was just trying to make dinner…"

I almost laughed. In my mind the voice I was hearing belonged to an innocent child who had just wanted to do something grown up for once. But that was so far from the case that instead of laughing I started to cry.

"Oh Bucky…"

"You don't understand," he said quietly, "It's like there are pieces of me that I can't hold onto no matter how hard I try… I forget how to do the stupidest things. I have to remind myself every morning that I've always known Steve, that I don't like scrambled eggs… Every single day I have to calm myself down when I look in the mirror because I forget that I have a metal arm, and that's supposed to be normal to me… I thought I was finally getting better, I was starting to retain more every day. It was getting easier to wake up and feel like _Bucky_ and not have to give myself the whole biography… I was going to make dinner, I thought I could remember how to make at least something… I stood in the kitchen for an hour and my mind was just blank. I can't remember a single thing I used to like eating. In Russia they just made me eat the same thing everyday, some sort of soup, and I didn't even care about the taste because there was no point…"

I don't know what to say so I offer him my hand and he sits up, interlacing his fingers with mine. We sit for a moment and then Bucky continues.

"I don't know what happened, it was like I blacked out… But I've blacked out before and it was different. I knew what I was doing this time, I just couldn't stop myself. I was so angry… It felt like I was feuding with myself from the inside out. I wasn't even angry at anything in particular, I was just… I don't think I'm ever going to remember who I used to be, at least not all the way. Whatever they did to me, there's fragments that have gotten lost along the way. I can see a lot of my memories but they look like a film reel in my mind, not like my own memories. So, I don't know if I'm really remembering anything at all, or if they're just stories Steve's told me…"

He's rubbing my palm with his thumb, tracing the lines like a maze. I reach over and rest my hand on his cheek, and he turns to look at me again.

"You need to let me go," he whispers, his eyes red and sorrowful.

"I'm not going to," I say firmly, "You might not have all of your old memories, but I'm sure as hell not going to let you walk away from your new ones like they never happened."

"It is not safe for me to be here," Bucky replies, "What if you had been home? I would have killed you. I don't belong in a civilian's world, Maria. I'm not a civilian…"

"I trust you," I tell him sternly, taking both his hands in mine. "Bucky, you don't have to pretend like everything is perfect, because when is anything perfect? And I'm not going to blame you for losing control, I would be stupid to think you had Mal-intentions, but I _will_ blame you for giving up control. This is _your_ life, you have it back, and I cannot let you throw it away because you're scared you're going to hurt me. I can manage, and if it gets really bad we will figure this out like two level-headed adults. I can deal with broken dishes and sofas, I can buy new ones, but I can't buy a new you. So please, I don't care how greedy I'm being, don't leave me."

"You don't mean that," Bucky says shaking his head, "You're being irrational Maria. You need to think this through a lot more, because it's not greedy what you're saying, it's suicidal. You have no idea what I'm capable of. Hell, _I_ have no idea what I'm capable of!"

"I know you're capable of being loving, and caring, and gentle… When I'm with you I feel safe, I feel complete. I wake up and I know I'm going to have a good day because I'll get to see you smile."

He pulls away from me and stands, his voice shakes as he speaks. "How could you possibly feel safe around me? Do you realize that my brain was rewired to find killing people_ rewarding_? I am not safe, I'm so far from safe… I was starting to think I was doing okay, I wake up next to you and I don't instantly regret being alive, but if this…" he gestures around the broken room, "If _this_ is what I do when I'm not_ intending_ to kill? Then I'm _not_ doing okay."

Everything he says stings and I have all I can do not to vomit, but I know I'm not going to convince him of how wrong he is unless I can stay strong and speak my mind. I rise to my feet and clear my throat so my voice won't waver, "If you want to leave, then fine. The door is open. But I am not going to leave you, nor am I going to ask you to leave. What I will do is call you a cab to the hospital and walk you to the door if you're insistent on walking away. Or, if you're going to try to work this out and stay with me, then I will gladly take the shard of dinnerware out of your leg and then put clean sheets on the bed so you can stay the night and have your favorite silky sheets too. You have five minutes to decide. I'll be getting the first-aid kit set up in the bathroom. Come find me once you've made your decision."


	5. Chapter 5

As soon as I'm in the bathroom after Bucky's breakdown I let out a huge sigh. It's hard to act commandingly when you're incredibly upset, but I have to put up a facade of strength for him. I can't lose Bucky, there's no way I'll forgive myself if I let him walk out and I don't do all I can to help him. I realize as I stand there alone that I'm in love. I don't know how it happened, but it did, and I'm 100% sure of it. Everything in my life has been kind of a losing battle, but it has made my realize that the only way to get through is to try and find the silver lining. My father was never proud of me, so I decided upon a career that would at least make me proud of myself. And since then it's been one thing after another. There have been so many ups and downs with SHIELD and for the most part I'm never one who really gets a lot of recognition for my work. Not to mention losing Coulson, and having no one to talk to about it because no one really knew about our relationship… I put everything I have into my job because I don't have much else. I may have told Bucky I wasn't lonely living by myself, but that wasn't exactly true. I wasn't lonely because I never let myself have a moment to let it sink in that I was basically on my own, all the time. Except now, because now I had Bucky. Someone who didn't remember anything, and who thought the world was new and exciting, and who was genuinely interested in my life. The slow pace of my existence was pretty much perfect for him because it didn't involve being a superhuman, or a spy, or anything else. I was just an average run-of-the-mill girl from Chicago…

* * *

My thoughts were interrupted when Bucky sat down on the toilet lid, not making eye contact. I eyed him curiously for a moment, not sure if I was really seeing him sitting there. I'd been pretty positive he was going to want to leave, there was a strong tone of panic in his voice before and it hinted at wanting to make a run for it. But I'd been wrong, I guess, because he'd stayed put.

"I'm sorry I snapped at you," I said softly, running a wash cloth under warm water so I could wipe the blood away from the wound on his leg.

He sat silently, staring at me with uncertain eyes. I bent down to wipe away the clotted blood and inspect the injury, waiting for him to speak, but he didn't.

* * *

It took almost a half an hour for me to remove the ceramic shard from his leg and close the wound properly. After that I gently wiped the blood from the other cuts on his arm and face, applying antibiotic cream wherever there was a large cut. Bucky stayed silent the entire time, eying me warily as though he wasn't sure I was going to keep helping him if he didn't say something. I wasn't about to play that game, I was going to help him and he was going to have to deal with it. So long as he was under my roof still, I was going to do what I could.

"You should be all set," I told him, washing my hands after taking the rubber surgical gloves off.

He nodded slowly, "Thank you."

"Thank you, for not leaving."

He stared at me again, eyes still dark, "You're crazy, for not wanting me to leave."

"Maybe," I say, "But I can't lose someone else that means this much to me. I never got to tell my mom, I never got to tell Coulson… I can't not tell you."

"Tell me what?" he asks, raising an eyebrow just slightly.

"That I love you," I reply quietly.

He's silent again, staring at the floor for a while before he speaks again. "You don't."

I cross my arms over my chest and stare him down, "Don't play this game with me."

"You don't," he says again, this time meeting my gaze firmly, "You can't, I'm not anything you should be attached to. The only reason I stayed is because I was sorry for hurting your feelings. I'm not staying forever, Maria. I can't. I'll be gone by tomorrow afternoon. I just… wanted to apologize first."

"You don't get it," I say, "I'm not scared, do you know that? I'm not at all scared of you. Because at this point? I've seen a lot of people die who shouldn't have, and they didn't come back to life and get a second chance. But you? You did come back to life. And if you're only here for a little while longer, so be it. And if you take me down with you? Fine. But I'm not going to play that game, the 'what if' game, because it's stupid. It doesn't get you anywhere and you're left with a lot of things left unsaid. And on top of that, I do love you. You've become a part of my life I don't want to lose because you've given me something to hope for. I lied when I said I wasn't lonely. I was, I just didn't realize it until I wasn't anymore. Before you broke down _we_ were doing so well. I love your enthusiasm for everything, and I love how you treat me like a woman _and_ respect me. It doesn't bother you that I'm a total nerd and own all of _Indiana Jones_ on DVD…" I feel my eyes starting to get hot with tears and my face flushes with embarrassment, I hadn't wanted to cry.

"I don't want to hurt you," he whispers.

"You haven't yet," I manage to choke out, "But you will, if you leave."

Bucky stands and carefully puts his arms around me. I rest my head against his chest and we stand together for a while just holding one another.

"I'm scared," Bucky whispers softly into my neck.

"I know you are," I say back, rubbing my thumb in a circle on his back, "But its okay..."

"I have you," he finishes.


	6. Chapter 6

The next time Bucky loses control I'm there. And I immediately can tell there's something wrong.

It's a Saturday, I just finished getting dressed and showered. Bucky and I were going to go out to lunch. I walk into the livingroom and the guy standing in the hallway is _not_ Bucky. For one he's holding a kitchen knife in his metal arm, the one Bucky never uses unless it's completely necessary. For two he has this look of pure hatred in his eyes, and beneath that there's nothing.

"Get down on your knees and put your hands behind your head," he says with a thick Russian accent.

"Bucky," I say feebly, "Come on, this isn't you."

His expression doesn't give any indication he can even hear me, its like he's in a trance.

"You aren't my target," he growls, "Keep quiet and I won't hurt you."

"Bucky come on," I try again.

"Who the hell is Bucky?" he barks, his grip tightening on the knife.

"You, you're Bucky. James Buchanan Barnes. I know you can hear me, somewhere in there, come on!" He doesn't even acknowledge what I say and I'm suddenly aware that he _can't_ hear me. Bucky's not Bucky right now, he's The Winter Soldier.

"I have to find my target," Bucky spits, "So shut up!"

My mind is racing, there has to be away to bring him back into his own mind, some sort of tether. I think about what Steve said, from when he and Bucky fought on the helicarrier. _It was like Bucky was trapped somewhere in this big hulking thing, and he was scared but there was nothing he could do to stop himself…_

"Do you remember Steve?" I ask hopefully, "Steve Rogers, your friend?"

"No," Bucky says curtly, "I don't."

"Sure you do, he's Captain America. I'm sure you've heard that name before."

"I said shut up!"

"Sorry, sorry. I just figured you'd remember him, he was your best friend after all."

His flesh fist is curled tightly into a fist and shaking with rage, "Shut. Up. Or I will kill you."

"No, you won't. Bucky, come on, this isn't you," I do my best to hide the wavering in my voice.

"Stop calling me that!"

"It's your name," I say firmly, "Unless there's something else you'd like to go by now. What about James? Is that better?"

He makes a move and I think he's going to stab me so I duck out of the way, but instead his fist goes straight through the wall. He lets out an animalistic noise and then swings again. When he turns to face me his gaze falls to the floor. "Stop talking!" he shouts, obviously furious.

There's a small tear rolling down my cheek but I muster up my best authoritative tone and try again. "Bucky, you have to stop this, you're going to do something you don't mean to do. Put the knife down."

"I'm not Bucky! Just stop!"

"You are! You are Bucky! Maybe not right now, but somewhere inside of you, he's there!"

There's a large pause in conversation and then Bucky drops to the ground like a boulder falling off a cliff. His body is totally limp when I rush to his side, but he's still breathing. I take out my phone and call Steve, not knowing who else to call. I sob into the phone as I tell him what happened. Steve stays on the line the whole ride to my apartment.

* * *

"Do you remember anything?" the doctor asks him gently.

"It's like I was watching a movie," Bucky says, voice shaking.

"So you remember, but not from your own perspective?"

"Yes, exactly."

"Hm, well that's actually promising," the doctor tells him.

Bucky squeezes my hand and I squeeze back.

"If you're experiencing out of body episodes, we can definitely treat you. That's something I can work with, Mr. Barnes."

I offer Bucky a comforting smile and he gives me a feeble smile back.

"I'll need to scan your brain to locate the areas where this disruption is taking place, and then we can figure out what our next step is. I will probably start you on a regimen of anti-anxiety medications to try to keep your stress level down as that seems to be a big factor in these episodes. And you'll meet with me to discuss your progress and develop proper coping techniques. I wouldn't worry at all, these are quite typical symptoms for dissociative disorders, and we've had a lot of improvements in treatment techniques. Most of the time people with mild cases like yours are able to lead healthy lives once they get the right help."

* * *

A month after Bucky's doctor visit I have a surprise for him. "What would you say if I told you I knew someone who could make you a much more inconspicuous prosthetic?"

"I'd say it's really not necessary, and probably too expensive."

"Bucky, you hardly use it. You act like its a diseased part of you that you have to hide. And besides, the guy I know would do it for free."

"It just… Doesn't feel right to use it, never has. It's made to be a weapon, a tool, its hard to make sure it works gently for everyday use."

"So it would be better if you had an arm that would function more naturally, right? And maybe a little less shiny metal this time?"

Bucky lets out a soft laugh, and rolls his eyes, "What? You don't like the chrome?"

"Its not me that has to deal with covering it up in public. I feel like that's all you do when we go out, worry about if people can see it."

"Alright, fine, what's the deal then? Who is this guy?"

"My boss, Tony Stark."

"_Iron Man_?"

"Yep, that's the guy. I talked to him the other day because he wanted to know how the treatments were going, and he asked about if the doctor's have said anything about your arm. He's fascinated with technology, I'm sure you've heard."

"Yeah, what's that thing he made? Jarvis?"

"Mmhmm, and he wants to make you a different arm. All American made, free of charge, and whatever material you'd like."

"Seriously?"

"Yeah, why not? He lives for projects like this, and if anyone can make you a more naturalistic prosthetic its him."

He's holding back a grin, but I can see it in his eyes. I know that this will be an opportunity for him to leave another part of his past behind, a part of The Winter Soldier behind. And on top of that it will be something he can look forward to and be a lot more proud of. I know it bothers him to think that he's somehow still destined to carry out Hydra's missions for him, but maybe with a Stark-made arm he'll feel more like one of the Avengers.

"Do you think Steve would kill me if I get a star-spangled arm?"

I'm caught off guard by his jest and choke on my laugh, "I doubt it, Bucky, he's your friend. He'd probably think it was hysterical."

Bucky taps his fingers on the table, deep in thought, "You know, okay, I think this is a good idea. Are you sure he's willing to do this for me?"

"Yes, he is," I reply, "In fact, he's already starting the design process."

Bucky rolls his eyes, "Of course he is."

And just like that, we're making progress again. And this time it just might last.


	7. Chapter 7

Tony had already been working on his latest creation for a week before I sprung the idea on Bucky, and once I'd given him the go-ahead from Bucky it was full speed ahead. Tony and Bucky decided they were going to surprise me with the final product so I wasn't allowed to go to any of their meetings. I was grateful to see that he came back from Stark's with a smile on his face every time though, that seemed like a good sign.

* * *

"Tony says he'll be done by tomorrow," Bucky told me with a hint of excitement in his voice. We were laying on the (new) sofa watching _Iron Chef_ because Bucky thought that the Chairmen was very ninja-esque and he wanted to pick up some cooking tips.

"Yeah? So I can finally see this masterful creation?"

Bucky nodded and kissed my neck, "I think you're going to like it."

"I'll like it if you do."

During the commercial break I rolled over so I was facing him and planted a kiss on his lips, "So, can your new arm shoot lasers or anything?"

His eyes lit up, "No, Tony said that was too much of a liability."

"Custom paint job?"

He shook his head and stopped further questioning with a kiss, winding his fingers in my hair. "Just wait and see."

"Fine," I groaned, biting his lower lip playfully, "Make me wait."

Later that night after a very well prepared pasta dinner, which Bucky made all on his own, Bucky told me he was going to head to Steve's. I sighed teasingly and got up to hug him goodbye. Technically he still lived in their safe-house, so although he had a lot of clothes and so forth at my apartment he still went back to Steve's every now and then for a guys night. It still made Bucky just a tiny bit uncomfortable living with me just because in his mind it was wrong to live with a woman and not be married to her, but we both knew that right now marriage wasn't on the top of the to-do list.

"So you're going to meet me at work tomorrow, right? Tony should be done by the afternoon I'm guessing so I can just head down to his lab when he's ready."

"Mhmm," Bucky said into the top of my head, embracing me before he had to go.

"Drive safely," I told him with a joking smile, "Don't go too fast, and call me when you get home."

"Yes mother," Bucky retorted, "I love you, I'll see you tomorrow."

"I love you too."

* * *

A little after two o'clock I headed down to Stark's lab and was surprised to see that Bucky wasn't anywhere to be found. Thinking maybe he just hadn't shown up yet I asked Tony, only to find out I was way off.

"Bucky already came, got fitted, and left. He said he was just going to meet you at home later, didn't he tell you that?"

No, he hadn't told me that. "Oh, okay, I was planning to meet him here, but that's fine… Did everything go okay?"

"Yeah, yeah. Totally fine. He didn't hulk out on me, if that's what you're asking. Bucky was a little apprehensive, obviously, but I think he'll get used to it."

"Great, okay. Well thank you, for everything. It means a lot to Bucky, and to me."

"It was fun," Tony said with a huge grin, "Right up my alley, I love a good robotics challenge. And for the Winter Soldier of all people. I got to make him a Stark original, he's one of us now!"

* * *

When I got home later that night I let myself in and was immediately met with the sound of Nat King Cole's rendition of "When I Fall In Love" playing on the stereo. I wasn't sure if I should be impressed more with the fact that Bucky liked Nat King Cole, or the fact that he seemed to have figured out the stereo system on his own. I made my way into the kitchen and noticed there was a vase with roses on the counter, and something baking in the oven that looked like a cake. But, I didn't see Bucky…

I sat down at the kitchen table and pulled out my phone to check my email, figuring Bucky was in the bathroom or something. A few moments later I heard footsteps so I looked up, just as Bucky was walking back into the room. My jaw almost hit the floor when I saw him, and his face lit up like a Christmas tree under a fireworks display.

"Impressive, huh?" Bucky asked after a few seconds.

I did my best to re-collect myself and then nodded. "It looks so real…" I said finally.

He nodded and smiled proudly, flexing his arm a few times like he was still unsure of how it worked. "That was the goal," he mused, "Though if I ever get tired of flesh-tone, the synthetic skin is removable. And dishwasher safe, according to Tony anyway."

There was something vastly different in the way he was carrying himself and I was immediately overjoyed he'd agreed to having a new arm made. The prosthetic looked nearly identical to an actual human arm. The only difference was that it was a little less fluid as it moved, and the skin on it had a slight rubbery sheen to it. He was wearing a light gray tee-shirt, something so simple and yet vastly different from the long sleeve black shirts he usually wore. I wanted so badly to see what it felt like but I was afraid to freak him out, I didn't know how comfortable he was with it yet and the added inspection might be too much.

"You okay?" he asked, pulling out a chair across from me and taking a seat.

"Yeah, I'm fine, it's just a lot to take in. I'm just… I was so used to the metal, this is crazy."

"Its still metal underneath," Bucky reminds me with a wink, "Wanna see?"

"No, no it's fine. I don't want to make you mess anything up," I sputtered, embarrassed.

"You don't have to act like it's taboo, we can talk about it," Bucky says gently.

"I just don't want to make you uncomfortable…"

"Make me _un_comfortable? You've done nothing but make me more _comfortable_ since I met you! This whole project was your doing, and honestly its such a relief. I walked all the way to your apartment earlier after I left the lab and not a single person stared. I mean I was already starting to feel normal before… But now? I sort of even look normal."

"Yeah, other than the fact that you're like twice the size of normal guys," I tease softly.

"Only because I work out," Bucky laughs, "I don't have it nearly as bad as Steve does."

He reaches over and gently tucks my hair behind my ear, the silicone skin is soft against my cheek as he cups my face in his palm. "I don't know how I got so lucky, to have met you."

I can't stop myself from smiling at him. His eyes are looking at me with an immeasurable amount of adoration. "The cake still has about a half an hour to bake," Bucky says as he leans over to kiss me.

"Does it?" I reply.

"Mhmm," he says into my ear, "That's a lot of time to kill, don't you think?"

"Oh I don't know," I muse, "I think we can handle it."

It didn't take too long for the gray shirt he was wearing to end up on the bedroom floor. I found myself accidentally staring at his shoulder, _there was no more seam…_

"Looks good, right?" Bucky's voice rumbles in my ear, his mouth trailing kisses down my neck.

"It's going to take some getting used to," I say honestly. My fingers trail over the very faint line between the silicone sleeve and his flesh. I'm so used to feeling metal meet skin that this new arm is actually sort of weirding me out.

Bucky nibbles my ear playfully, "Maybe we need to ease into this."

"What?" I breathe, not wanting him to stop what he's doing.

"Hold on," he says pulling away for a second. He reaches up to his shoulder and very gently moves his hand down the length of the silicone on his arm. The pressure from his grip pulls it off like a long glove, and in a moment he's holding the tube of skin in his hand, leaving the metal exposed. Underneath the arm looks a lot like the old one, only much more streamlined. It's a bluish steel color rather than chrome, so its not as shiny as the original, and it doesn't have that glaring red star on the shoulder.

"Better?" he says, analyzing my expression momentarily. "I know it must be a little strange, going from one thing to the other. You've only ever seen me with the metal arm so…"

"I'm sorry," I blurt.

"No, it's okay," he says taking my hand and rubbing my knuckles with his thumb.

"I get it. Honestly, sometimes I still have a hard time dealing with how I look. Its sort of strange. I mean I'm technically supposed to be 98 years old in March, for God's sake, but I'm actually only physically 28 years old. Except for however much time I was active with Hydra added on a little more time to that, so I guess I'm probably more like 32 years old… The whole thing is just confusing. Not to mention, modern clothing is a lot different from what I'm used to, and it certainly isn't army attire. And on top of it all there are still days when I look in the mirror and I still see _him_ staring back at me, even though so much has changed…"

I reach over and take his other hand, acknowledging the sudden difference of the cool metal against my palm. "I think someday you'll get used to it all…"

"Yeah," Bucky muses, " Someday, certainly. It's just going to take time I think. I'm just… Grateful, you know? I have you to keep me on the right track, guide me through this all. I don't know what I'd do…"

"You'd be fine," I reply, "I think you would make it, you're a lot tougher than you let yourself think."

Bucky lets out a low laugh, "Maybe I would have been… But I'd probably still be a mess. Or at least I'd still look like a mess, you have to at least take credit for not letting me be a slob."

I tousle his hair and then wrap my arms around him, "Just because they didn't make sweatpants in the 1940s doesn't mean you should make up for lost time and wear them every single day."

"I know, I know," Bucky says twining his fingers in my hair and kissing me as he continues, "I remember. Just like I remember not to buy Oxfords because I'm not a grandpa, and that high-waisted pants aren't fashionable anymore, and pomade is just gross…"

"And sticky," I quip back, planting a kiss on his lips before he can protest.

"I already promised not to use it," Bucky reminds me, running his fingers along the waist of my pants. His voice is low as he whispers in my ear after a moment, "We still have another twenty minutes."

"Plenty of time," I whisper back, pressing a kiss into his shoulder just above the metal part, "But let's not let it go to waste."


	8. Chapter 8

By the time March rolls around Bucky and I have gotten into a routine with each other. He stays over every night except for Saturdays, which are guys night with Steve and Sam. The medication and therapy have really reduced his outbursts and nightmares, but when he does have a bad spell I know exactly how to stop them. It took me until the fourth time he lost it to figure out what to say, and with the help of Google Translate I now had an exact speech to give him under my belt.

_"Eto ne vy. Pomnite Steve? Vy ne na missii, Bucky. Polozhit' nozh, prezhde chem prichinit' komu-to bol', ya znayu, vy ne chuvstvuyete sebya 'vas' pryamo seychas, no ya znayu, chto ty do sikh por vy gde-to tam..."_

_(This isn't you. Remember Steve? You're not on a mission, Bucky. Put the knife down before you hurt someone, I know you're not feeling 'you' right now, but I know you're still you somewhere in there…)_

Everytime he would sink to his knees and sob, but the spells came less and less frequently, and every time they lasted for a shorter duration. I figured out that saying whatever I needed to say to him in Russian was a lot faster than my English words having to travel through the mind of the Russian assassin and then to Bucky. If I said it in the soldier's natural language it was a direct hit, and Bucky got the message sooner.

* * *

Because things were going better between us, I wanted his birthday to be a big celebration of how far he'd come. The theme for the party had been Steve's idea, and at first I was hesitant to go for it because I was afraid it would upset Bucky, but after a few discussion with the rest of the Avengers it became clear that a 1940s party was the way to go.

The day of the party I was a ball of nerves. I was hoping he wouldn't be freaked out by the surprise of everyone being packed into our living room when he came over, but I had my 'script' written out and stashed in my pocket just in case.

"He's going to love it, don't worry," Steve piped up, sticking the last of the 98 candles into the cake on the counter.

"Plus you're probably going to give him a heart attack in that dress, so if he hates the party he'll probably die before he has a chance to even tell you," Nat teases.

"Do you think it's too much?" I ask, stopping mid-pace to look at her and the rest of them.

"Nah," Steve assures me, "It's a nice touch, I know him, he's going to think its great."

I resume pacing, glancing down at my blue and white dress and sincerely wishing I had just opted for modern attire.

When Bucky's key slides into the lock everyone ducks behind the sofa as Steve throws on one of Bucky's favorite songs "Paper Doll" by The Mills Brothers.

His face lights up when he comes in, and his eyes immediately land on me.

"Happy Birthday!" everyone cheers.

He steps over to me and takes me in one arm, cupping my face in his other hands as he looks at me for a moment. "You're too much," Bucky laughs, "Thank you, everyone."

Steve breaks out a few bottles of champagne and Bucky leans over to whisper to me as we walk to get a glass, "By the way, I would much rather have you than a paper doll. Despite the song."

"I figured," I tell him, "But thanks for the reassurance."

The night is full of laughter and dancing. Bucky attempts to teach me how to properly swing dance, but we discover I have two left feet. It doesn't help that the heels I'm wearing are higher and stiffer than I'm used to.

Once everyone has left for the night and we've seen them out the door, Bucky scoops me up in his arms and carries me over to the sofa. He deposits me gently on one side and then takes a seat on the other. "You look beautiful," he tells me, "You would have stolen every guys' heart at the dance."

"Oh really?" I say slyly, "Even with my lack of dance skills?"  
"Even with your lack of dance skills," he says kissing me on the nose.

"Well I'm glad you didn't actually think it was too much," I say, gesturing at my dress.

"Not at all," he replies, "Tonight was fun."

We sit for a moment, enjoying each others company, and then Bucky looks over at me.

"Can I tell you something?" he asks softly.

"Mhmm," I say back.

"I think…" he sighs, fidgeting a little.

"You think…?"

"Never mind," he blushes, "You're not going to want to hear it, that was cheesy…"

"No no, come on. You can't leave me hanging like that."

He shakes his head, "I don't want to ruin tonight."

"Bucky, what could you possibly have to tell me that would ruin tonight? Unless it's something in Russian about trying to stab me, or if you're planning to leave and go off on an adventure without -"

"... I want you to marry me…"

My words catch in my throat and I feel my eyes go wide.

"Please don't look at me like that. I just mean, that I want to spend my life with you. And I don't mean that we have to actually get married, well I do, but I mean that I want you to be mine, permanently…"

"You want to get married?" I breathe.

"Yes."

"Well then, yes!"

For the second time that night his eyes light up. He takes me in his arms very lightly as he speaks, "I was afraid you weren't going to want to. I know we've talked about it, and it hasn't always seemed like the right time. But I don't think there is a 'right time' with lives like ours."

"Now," I say softly as happy tears well in my eyes, "Now is good."

I feel him laughing and he kisses my neck, "Yeah, now is good."

* * *

**Hi guys! So I thought this was a cute way to end things with this. There might be a sequel, but I didn't want to actually get to the wedding because I know it will be wayyy too cheesy if I write it the way I see it in my head. Hope you enjoyed!**


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